Trust
by say no more
Summary: Snapshots of a relationship. Spot Conlon through the eyes of a whore. (Rated for situation. Complete.)
1. one

TRUST 

1/3

"Just tell me your name."

She looked over at him, still lying in the bed, shirtless. He looked so smug, like she didn't have other customers waiting. Like he wasn't just some john who'd paid his money and had a turn with her, as though she'd invited him up for a night as a _real_ couple. He smirked, and she thought about telling him, but no. She didn't tell johns her name. She didn't want them to be more a part of her life than they had to be.

"Whatever you want it to be, lover," she answered, her voice lush. She winked at him. It was all an act, of course; she _hated_ the act, but didn't have a choice. What else could she do?

"No, I mean it." He sat up. "What's your name?"

"It doesn't matter." She glanced at the clock. "You got ten minutes left."

"It matters to _me."_

"It ain't none a' your business."

He gave her an amused look, and gestured to the bed next to him. "I got ten minutes left. Get over here."

She complied, vaguely annoyed; she was almost dressed again. But he'd paid for her, so she did as asked, and he reached for the bodice of her dress and began to fiddle with the lacing. She placed a hand on his chest; his skin was smooth, and he looked younger than he really was, with shaggy light brown hair and a smile that meant he could probably have any girl he wanted. But for whatever reason, he hadn't wanted a girl like most people did, he'd paid for a whore instead. She had to wonder about that.

"You got no idea who I am, do you?" he asked, leaning in and kissing her neck, then removing the bodice.

"You wanna tell me?" she murmured. "I know you're important. I know you're… _powerful."_

"You'd better believe it." He rolled over, on top of her, and kissed her. "You ain't never gonna meet anyone as powerful as me."

She kissed back, wrapping her arms around him, digging her fingernails into his back. He shuddered a little, but it was with pleasure more than pain; she had learned to judge which guys would like what. He definitely struck her as a nails-on-the-back guy.

He rolled off of her, and paused. "What's your name?" he asked again.

"Why do you want to know?" she asked.

"Since when do whores give their customers lip?" he demanded.

"Lip?" she scoffed. "I given lots a' things in my time, but never heard it called that before."

"You know what I mean." He pushed himself up on his elbows, and watched her watching him. "You're good at what you do. I want to find you again."

"It takes two to tango, lover," she answered, tracing a finger down his chest.

"Spot," he answered.

"What?"

"My name. _I_ ain't afraid to tell _you._ Spot Conlon… You ever heard a' me?"

"Sure," she answered. She hadn't, but that didn't matter, he wanted her to have. She was being paid to make him happy for another few minutes at least. And she lied to all of the johns who came to see her, so it wasn't like it mattered.

"You really have?" he asked.

"Sure I have."

He grinned and kissed her. "You'se a liar," he said. "But it's nice a' you. You ever need anythin' in Brooklyn, you just say you'se my girl."

"I ain't your girl," she answered. "Not after another five minutes."

"You don't know how many girls _wish_ they was my girl."

She shrugged. "You don't know how many guys wish they knew my name."

He laughed a little. "You'se good in bed _an'_ funny. Tell me your name."

_"No."_

Usually she didn't directly refuse johns, they didn't like that and it made them feel like they weren't getting their money's worth. But he clearly wasn't taking any hints, and even though he probably wouldn't take no for an answer, it was easier to lay the law down than to argue semantics.

He looked startled; she got the impression people didn't say no to him a lot. "I'll find out," he said. "Sooner or later, I'll find out. I got little birds everywhere, they hear everything. One of them will know."

"You really want your little birds asking what you was doing spending the night in a cathouse?" she asked back. He narrowed his eyes a little; she'd guessed right and her remark hit home. He was too prideful to let other people know he dallied with whores. Probably not because he had a problem with her class of people—judging by his clothes, he wasn't any higher class himself—but because he wanted people to think he could have any girl he wanted. It was a power thing. Machismo.

"I'll find out," he promised. "Next time, I'll greet you by name. You'll see."

"You're coming back?" she asked.

"You gonna look forward to it?" he smirked.

She smiled, but to her surprise, it was a _real_ smile. She never smiled for real while she was working. She didn't like her job… Or rather, she didn't mind the job itself, she just hated the men who came to her. But this one—Spot Conlon, apparently—he didn't seem like the others. He didn't seem to be such a bad guy.

There wasn't enough time to really do much else, but they spent the final few minutes wrapped in each others arms, lips locked.

And then time was up. He was reluctant to go; she was reluctant to force him. But business was business.

--

He almost staggered into the door. She had been sitting on the bed, waiting for her next customer, and when she saw who it was she hurried to her feet and caught him. She guided him towards the bed, where he collapsed, faced buried in a pillow. Flecks of dried blood rubbed off him every time he moved, more of his skin was bruised than wasn't, and he looked like he was barely conscious.

"Spot?" she murmured, stripping him of his shirt. He clearly was in no shape for fooling around, despite having paid for it; she carefully began to massage his back. He shuddered in pain, but let her skillful fingers begin to soothe his aching body. "What's your name?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Don't worry about that now," she answered. "What happened?"

"Don't worry about that, either," he replied.

"Did you win the fight?"

"I _always_ win."

She swallowed hard. "I'd hate to see the loser."

"Ain't no one seeing him anymore except the fishes in the bay."

"And if you lose someday?"

"I _always_ win."

She didn't question him about it. She didn't want to know. Instead, she continued to massage him, and he must have been exhausted by the fight—not that she could blame him, judging by the wounds she saw—and he fell asleep under the careful ministrations of her fingers.

--

He was all smirks and self-confidence. "Tell me your name," he commanded.

"Go to hell, Conlon," she answered.

He laughed and reached for her, pulled her close, and they collapsed on the bed together moments later. Things that night were fun and exciting. She didn't know quite what had put him in such a good mood, but didn't really care to ask. His breath smelled of alcohol, for one, and he again had traces of a fight in his skin. But this time, the damage wasn't major. An occasional bruise, one cut on his side, and that was all. He'd won, and this time, definitively.

"But you always put me in heaven," he murmured into her skin, as his hand caressed her side and his lips went to her neck.

"That's what you pay me for," she answered.

"Why won't you tell me your name?"

"'Cause you don't want a girl, you want a whore."

"But you ain't just a whore," he objected, sitting up suddenly. "You… You put me to sleep."

"Thanks a _lot."_

"Not like that. I mean… You knew what I needed, that last time. An' you just _did_ it. An' you make me laugh. No other whores do that."

"No other johns make me laugh," she admitted. "But I ain't your girl. I'm your whore. I'm just what I say I am."

"Can I _guess_ your name?" he asked.

"Sure."

"Will you tell me if I'm right?"

She shrugged. "I thought you'd paid for something else tonight."

He grinned and climbed on top of her. "Rebecca?" he asked, and she shook her head while he began to work on a button on her dress. "Rachel? Elizabeth? Virginia? Jessica? Give me a letter. Tell me what letter it starts with."

She reached up and began to undo his buttons. "You've gotta guess it, Spot."

"Aw, that's impossible."

"It was _your_ idea."

"I got better ideas now." He shrugged out of his shirt, and things went on from there.

**AN: This fic was actually written… Uh, awhile ago. It's not my best writing but I still enjoy it a lot, and since this whole "het" thing is new to me, I'd absolutely love some CC.**


	2. two

TRUST 

2/3

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Fine."

He sank down onto the bed, and shied away from her hand on his shoulder. She let it drop, and sat near but not touching him.

"You want to talk?"

"Not really."

"You ain't even asked my name."

"It don't matter."

"You okay?"

"Fine."

It was like walking around in circles. There was no point. She sighed. "Here," she offered, "let me give you a backrub. You ain't been a fight, have you?"

"'Course I have. I'm _me."_

"You didn't lose, did you?"

"I never lose."

"Then what's the matter, Spot?"

"You wouldn't understand. You don't know anything about me." But he let her fingers begin to find the knots in his shoulders and work them out.

"So tell me."

"Tell me your name first," he said quietly. "I can't _trust_ you if I don't _know_ you."

And the silent part of the sentence was, _And I need someone to trust right now._ But he wouldn't have said that aloud. She didn't know him outside the context of her room, but she knew him well enough to know that. He was arrogant, and never would have admitted needing anyone.

"Caroline," she said finally, quietly. "Caroline Jonas."

He turned around and looked at her. If he'd been in a good mood, he'd have grinned at finally winning that battle, but barely could muster up a smile. "Was that so hard, Caroline?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered, straight-faced. "What's troubling you, Spot?"

He looked down at the floor. "My best friend got a knife in the throat tonight. I wasn't there to watch his back, I coulda helped… An' instead he's dead an' I'm spending the night in a cathouse." He shook his head. "It ain't _fair._ It shouldn't have been _him,_ damn it, they wanted me."

"Spot…"

"I have to find them now. I have to _kill_ them now. I don't like killing people. It ain't… It ain't right."

"Then why do you do it?"

"'Cause I got to." He looked so angry all of a sudden. "'Cause my boys need someone to take care of 'em, an' the only way to do that in Brooklyn is to kill whoever gets in your way. If you just hurt 'em, you're weak, you get attacked. You gotta kill or be killed, an' I can't let my boys die." He looked up at her. "You hate me now, you know I'm killer?"

"No," she said quietly. "I don't hate you, Spot."

"Sometimes I hate myself."

"Everyone does, sometiems."

"But not everyone _oughtta._ _You_ shouldn'."

She shook her head. "I'm a cheap prostitute, Conlon. You think I can look myself in the mirror all the time?"

"You ain't," he told her. "You… It's just your job. You do what you have to, right?"

"So do you."

"But it's different. I hurt people. You help 'em."

"No, I don't," she said firmly. "I give them what they pay for."

He looked her in the eye. "Then why do you bother with me? You telling me I'm just another john to you?"

She answered yes, but she hesitated long enough that he knew it was a lie. He turned around to face her, placed a hand on hers, and threaded his fingers in between hers. "Sometimes, I wish you wasn't just my whore," he said. "I wish you was my girl."

"I ain't, though."

"I know." He let her hand go. "But I paid for ya, an' tonight you _is._ For a little while, anyway, Caroline."

--

He watched her get dressed. Sunlight was beginning to leak in under the thick curtains, but it was a watery sort of light. Dawn light. He yawned; he'd never been so late in the brothel before. Usually, he went on the early side, and wandered home when he was done; he'd been late that night, and so now it was morning.

"Why ain't you kicked me out yet?" he asked. She tossed him his pants from across the room where he'd abandoned them. "My time's been up for almos' half an hour."

"'Cause I'm done for the night," she answered. "You was my last john for the night. So I didn't need to kick you out."

"So why'd you let me stay? You don't seem like you'd let people stay extra just 'cause. You wouldn' even tell me your name for a month."

She rolled her eyes. "I let you stay 'cause you fell asleep an' looked like it was the first sleep you'd had in a week. Couldn't bring myself to wake you."

"Too sweet. You want breakfast?"

"What?"

"It's morning, right? You want to go get breakfast?"

"It's dinner for me," she answered.

"So? I can do dinner for breakfast. My meals is weird enough usually anyway."

"Yeah, but… I shouldn't."

"Why not?"

"'Cause you're a john, an' I don't socialize with customers."

"Too good for us?" he asked, trying to sound amused instead of hurt.

"Yeah, I am," she said loftily, though not seriously.

"So what, you'll take our money but wouldn't be _seen_ with us?"

"Hey, you _give_ me your money and I do exactly what I was asked to." She wanted to stop now; this had been a joke, but it sounded like it was becoming a real argument.

"Ya know, usually it's the _guy_ who should be embarrassed to be seen with a whore. You'd be grateful to be seen with me, for people to think you was my girl, if you knew who I was."

"If you're so embarrassed because you come to a cathouse every week, why the hell do you do it?" she demanded. "I ain't ashamed of what I am."

"Sure you are. You told me you was last time."

"I think you'd better go."

"What if I ain't ready yet?"

"Your time is up."

"You ain't got no one waiting."

"Your _time _is _up,"_ she said again. "Get out, Spot."

"All right," he said. "But don't expect me to be so nice to you no more."

"I don't." She narrowed her eyes. "I don't expect to see you again."

"What?"

"You don't like what I am, don't come see me. It's that simple."

"Fine. I won't."

"Good."

"Good." He finished pulling on his clothes in silence, and walked to the door. "G'bye, Caroline. I shouldn't have bothered with your name." He slammed it after him.

--

He didn't look sheepish; he was too arrogant to be sheepish. But he did sort of look down at the floor instead of up at her, and she shied away from catching his eyes, too. "Caroline?" he asked finally. "I didn' mean nothin' by it. I jus' wanted to take you out is all. I wouldn' be embarrassed for people to know I was datin' a hooker."

"You ain't datin' a hooker," she reminded him, but she said it gently. "You an' me is just…"

"Don' tell me I'm just another john to ya, 'cause I know you ain't just another whore to me."

She looked up at him, and smiled. "We'se just _friends,_" she said. "An' you should be flattered. I ain't never been friends with a customer b'fore."

"Am I really that good, then?" he asked, smirking.

She rolled her eyes, but in her sauciest voice murmured, "You're the _greatest,_ Spot."

"But you still won' let me take you to dinner?"

"'Fraid not."

"But, _why_ not? 'Cause I _know_ you like me." He sat down next to her and caught her hand. "I like you too. So why not?"

"'Cause," she answered, shrugging a tiny bit. "Things would get too… Complicated… If we really got ta know each other outside a' here. Every whore knows that; you don' get involved with anyone who ever paid for you."

"Oh." He sounded crestfallen.

She reached for his hand. "But we ain't outside a' here now. We'se inside an' you paid for the next hour. So whaddaya say I cheer you up?"

He nodded, maybe a bit disappointed, but it was what he'd expected. And Caroline _always_ knew how to cheer him up.

--

"Caroline, I shouldn' be here," he said, watching her undress. "I don' know what the hell's wrong with me."

"Whaddaya mean?"

"I mean, I got a girl now. You musta noticed I ain't been aroun' in awhile."

"Yeah, I noticed."

"I got a girl, now. She's real nice. I shouldn' do this to her, I shouldn' cheat on her."

"You ain't cheated yet," Caroline reminded him. "You can still leave." She smirked. "You ain't gettin' your money back, but you can leave."

He leant back in the bed, against the pillows. "You know, I didn' even want ta sleep with you tonight. I jus' wanted to see you. I got a girl, an' I still wanted to come visit a whore, an' didn't want to fuck her. What's the matter with me, Caroline?"

"Nothin's the matter, Spot. Do you really trust me?"

"What?"

"When I told you my name, that night, you said it was so you could trust me. Do you?" She sat down next to him, naked save for her underclothes.

"Yeah," he said.

"I mean it. I get the feelin' you don't trust no one, everythin' you've said about Brooklyn an' all those fights you're always in… Do you _really_ trust me?"

"I do."

She smiled and put a hand over his. "Good," she said. "That's all it is. You just want a friend to talk to, who ain't gonna tell no one about it. We don't gotta sleep together, we can just talk, if you want."

He stared at her. "I…" He faltered. "I think I'd like that."

And that night, they just talked.

--

"We broke up," he said flatly.

"I'm real sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. She was a tramp anyway."

"You got somethin' against tramps?" Caroline asked, posing jauntily.

"At least tramps like _you_ is honest about things." He kicked the bed angrily. "The bitch _cheated_ on me. I was _loyal_ to her an' she…" he trailed off, making a strangled noise, then, "My foot hurts."

"Well, you shouldn't a' kicked my bed."

"Shut up. I jus' can't believe…"

"She done you wrong, Spot, she really did."

"I didn' love her anyway. I liked her, but she wasn'… She wasn' the one for me." He leant against the wall and banged a fist against it. "Damn it, why'd she have to do it?"

"She didn' know what a good thing she had."

"She must not a' thought it was such a good thing. Christ, I can't believe it. _She_ broke things off with _me._ I ain't never been dumped b'fore, never! Do you know who I _am?"_

"You'se Spot Conlon. You never lose," Caroline answered.

"Exactly. Stupid bitch." He crossed his arms, annoyed.

"You want me to take your mind off things?"

"That's why I'm here," he answered. "None a' your _talkin'_ shit tonight, neither. I jus' want—"

"I know _exactly_ what you want." Moments later, they collapsed onto the bed together, limbs intertwined.

**(Thanks to The Girl That Never Was, Brunette, Lil Ms KP, Dakki, Spotnmushlover246, and StormShadow21 for reviewing.**

** To clarify, CC means constructive criticism... or in other words, tell me what I'm doing wrong so I can become a better writer. :) )  
**  



	3. three

TRUST 

3/3

It had been months since she'd seen him look so beat up. He staggered into the room, still bleeding, and she ended up helping him clean wounds and bandage them with scraps torn from his tattered shirt.

"Spot, what the hell…?"

"It's over," he sighed. "I'm gonna lose. For the first time in my life, I'm gonna _lose,_ an' they'll _kill_ me."

"What?"

"I had ta come see you one last time, Caroline. Ta let you know it _was_ the last time. They want me dead, an' I ain't got the manpower ta take 'em on."

"Can't you get away?"

"I don't run away."

"But if they're going to _kill_ you—"

"I don't run away from fights," he said stubbornly. "I gotta fight, even if I'm gonna lose, otherwise I'm just a bully with a temper. An' if they get me, they'll prob'ly go easy on my boys. So I can't run away. I can't."

"Spot, please. Don'—"

"Sean," he said.

"What?"

"My name, my_ real_ name. Sean. Ain't no one around who knows it no more, but I feel like, if I die an' no one knows it… 'S like I was never alive, not really. Sean Conlon was a pretty good guy, better 'n Spot Conlon was. I want someone to remember him when he's gone. An' Caroline, ain't no one I trust as much as you, so there ain't no one who knows _Sean_ as well as you." He gave a short, desperate laugh. "I soun' crazy, talkin' like there's two a' me."

"I understand," she said quietly. "It's like there's two a' me, too."

"Whaddaya mean?"

"You'se the only john I ever told my name to. Anyone else who asks, I give 'em a line or a lie, 'cause there's… There's a difference between what I'm like, in here, and what I'm like when I ain't at work…"

"I wish I could a' known you when you wasn't workin'."

"You do, Sean," she answered. "You know me real good, the _real_ me."

"Then I wish I coulda taken you out for that dinner."

"Tell ya what," she answered. "You find a way outta this—I don't mean runnin' away, I mean findin' a way to win—an' next time you'se here, you an' me will go out for dinner."

"I ain't gonna make it, Caroline. There's no way, I just ain't got enough people to turn the tide. I… I give 'em _me_ an' my boys'll be okay. I hope. 'S the only hope I got."

"No," she said stubbornly. "You _can't_ just lose, you don't ever lose. You'se Spot Conlon, damn it, you _never_ lose!"

"There's nothin'—"

"More people," she said. "Do you got any friends, anyone else who can come help?"

"Yeah, but I can't _get_ to 'em. I mean, I got friends in Manhattan, but I also got guys followin' me everywhere I go. They's waitin' for me outside, now. I can't get to Manhattan, they'll kill any a' my boys who try to get there, an' anyone from Manhattan who tries to get a message to _me._ There ain't no way—"

"I could do it."

He stared at her. "What?" he asked.

"Unless you been tellin' people you'se real good friends with a whore, none a' your kind a' people know I exist. Anyone aroun' would just think you was here wit' any ol' girl, for a last night a'… You know."

"Yeah, but…" he trailed off. "You know, you could do it. You could almos' do it, if you waited until mornin' so nothin' looked that suspicious. I don' think anything'll be comin' until tomorrow night, maybe even later… You could get a message to Jack an' if he an' his guys could get here in time, we could get the jump on those bastards an'—Mary Mother a' _God_, Caroline. You'se right, I jus' _might_ come through this." He paused, then, "But if anyone figures out you got a message from me, your life won' be worth spit to 'em."

"Don' worry."

"I don' wanna put you in danger."

"I wouldn' be in any more danger than I am anyways, just 'cause you'se here. No one'll know if you said anything or not, an' people prob'ly wouldn' even think about it. After all, I'se _just_ a _whore."_

"You ain't. Not to me. You promised, Caroline. You said that if I found a way to get through this, we'd go out."

"Yeah, but _I_ found the way, didn' I?"

He rolled his eyes. "Same thing. I'd a' thought a' it in a minute or two."

"Sure."

"I _would_ a'. 'Cause I didn' _want_ to die, an' I would a' thought of a way out a' it. You know me, I always win somehow."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Jus' shut up an' let me take you to dinner after the whole thing is won, okay?"

She smiled. "Okay, Spot. So what's this message? Who'm I gonna go talk to?"

For the first time, she got to see what he was like when he worked. He was all business and no play, but soon she could repeat the message back to him verbatim, and had the directions to his friends in Manhattan memorized.

He felt more confident by the time he left, but she was still scared for his life.

--

It had been more than a week since she'd run Spot's errand, with no word from him. She'd promised not to go looking or ask around, just in case someone suspected anything; in return, he'd promised to come let her know how things turned out as soon as he could, assuming he survived. And the more days that went on without word from him, the less likely it seemed that he'd be showing up at all.

And then her door opened; her last customer of the day. It was him, and he just stood there in the doorway, leaning against the frame, smirking. "Spot!" she gasped.

"In the flesh." He stepped inside the room and nudged the door with his foot.

She grinned. "You don't look much worse for wear, where the hell have you been? I been worried sick about ya."

"Didn' want no one to jump to conclusions about my new messenger, so's I couldn' get back too quick. An b'sides, I been healin' up."

"You get hurt bad?"

He shrugged. "Bad enough that I couldn' walk for a day or two. Had ta bust a few heads then, convince the boys I was back in shape, but it worked out awright. Jack's boys turned the tide, an' I'm back on top."

"The a metaphor or somethin'?" she asked, and winked. He laughed.

"Actually, I jus' wanted ta take you out, like you promised. But I did have ta pay ta get up here, so…"

"So let's celebrate b'fore we go out," she suggested.

"That sounds fun."

They'd never seen each other in such good lighting before. The room where Caroline worked was lit by a few lamps, but the shades were all thick and colored and tinted the room to make it darker than it was. The curtains were always drawn, and it was night anyway. So they knew what each other looked like, but this was different.

"Caroline," Spot murmured, as they stepped outside the brothel, not hand in hand, but hovering close to each other. She turned away, not blushing but not really comfortable knowing he was staring at her. "You'se real cute."

"Shut up," she muttered. She really wasn't particularly pretty; she had perfectly ordinary features, with average brown eyes and average hair, just a touch darker than Spot's own. She got lost in crowds easily, which was just as well; she saw people she recognized from the brothel now and then, and was just as happy if _they_ didn't recognize _her._

Spot grinned and put an arm around her, guided her steps towards a small restaurant near by. It wasn't fancy or expensive, but they found a cozy table and ate their meal quietly. Breakfast for him; something heavier for her. He smiled and watched her eat.

It was strange, being out with a customer, but not altogether bad. She smiled back between bites. "Caroline," he said finally. "I'se real glad that I trust you."

"I'se glad you do, too."

"An' you know you can trust me, too."

She smiled. "I do." She reached across the table and they grabbed hands. Considering they'd already slept together, it wasn't much of a gesture, but it was enough. Neither one could have explained what they were to each other, but they were together. And it was enough.

--

**Author's Note The end didn't turn out as well as I wanted it to; the last part is my least favorite. Hence the long pause between updates. (Well, that and being away.) But I enjoyed writing it, and I'm glad people seemed to enjoy reading it; it wasn't so bad for my first attempt at het. Heh.**

**Thanks to Frogger no Baka, Southern Spell, Brunette, lil ms kP, StormShadow21, and the Girl That Never Was for reviewing.**


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